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I know I’m not supposed to write anymore this year as I’ve officially signed  off but I just wanted to point out that there is a new button on the site for those who are finding it difficult to subscribe using the RSS feed – that’s usually anyone born before 1970.  TOP RIGHT HAND SIDE, LOOKING AT SCREEN, PINK BOX!!!  BLACK ENVELOPE!!! GO GO GO BE BRAVE!!! 

It’s Monday morning back home after a weekend in the mountains.  My tibia are aching making walking downstairs difficult but the snow was terrific and the village of Verbier was Christmas Card pretty.

Mr. Jules is having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that Lexi is the last child he will teach to ski.  He is very proud of the fact that not one of his children were dumped unceremoniously each weekend at 8am ski school.   He’s getting as much mileage out of Lexi as he can.  Last year she was the oldest child on the slopes still on a lead until her siblings took charge and told him he was making a fool of himself amidst mutterings of male umbilical cord (that was my input). 

It’s rather quaint, a sort of mountain mid-life dilemma, no more kids to teach and he’s staring the grey ski-panther in the face.  Lexi now refuses to follow her father down the mountains.  She has made a bid for freedom with what she calls “free-style” which is basically a very flexible, bendy snow plough but these kids are so close to the ground that somehow they just bobble along over the moguls.  (That’s  my girl). This now means that we actually ski, very fast and I no longer have to be the scooper-upper ready to pick her up.  With Mr. Jules there is no question who gets to lead and who gets to scooper-up, it’s a passport thing.

I’ll be quiet now.